Home
by LovelyLadyAllie
Summary: #3 of my One-Shots taking place during the 91 cartoon. This follows Something To Do, and One Step Forward. A very cold day brings the Beast and Belle to the library.


**The third installment of my one-shots. Please read Something To Do, and One Step Forward and review!**

**I do not own Beauty and the Beast, just the story idea.**

**Thanks for reading! And Please Review!**

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**Home**

Beast sat on the settee in the Library in front of the wide fireplace, book in hand, lost in the world of knights and kings and wizards. It wasn't the first book he'd read alone since Belle finally achieved her goal of teaching him to read again. Once the initial refresher brushed off the dust in his mind, reading came much easier to him. And he'd shocked them both when he picked up Canterbury Tales and started reading aloud, in perfect English. She'd teased him then about pretending he couldn't read just as an excuse to spend more time with her. Grinning sheepishly he'd assured her that he hadn't been faking, insisting she was just such a great tutor he now remembered things long forgotten.

So enthralled with Erec and Enide, he didn't notice when Belle slipped into the library and rummaged through the shelves on the far wall behind him.

Tiptoeing behind the Beast, Belle silently searched for the sequel to the story she'd finished the previous day. Her bare feet made moving across the marble floor easier, and she took a few moments to watch his face as he turned the pages of the book in his hands. He was so careful with the delicate pages, always afraid a claw might snag on a page and rip it. His face was so expressive as his eyes traced back and forth across the parchment. She couldn't help but feel captivated watching his eyes widen, followed by a corner of his mouth creeping up slightly in a smirk. Wondering what he found so amusing, she leaned against the book shelf and continued to watch him.

_He's beautiful_, she thought, staring from across the room. It wasn't the first time that thought floated through her mind this week. A few days ago they'd spent an afternoon in the snow and she stifled a giggle as she recalled him covered in birds, smiling up at her. And the look on his face when she hit him with the snowball was priceless. She'd never seen him so happy, as he chased her though the snow, trying to pelt her with crudely crafted snowballs, and missing most of the time due to her agile frame. But it didn't really matter to either of them who won the fight. It was the game that mattered, their laughter, the way the troubles fell away and melted like snow. Much like their soap suds match the week before in the ballroom, both of them relaxed more around one another when they were having fun.

Today there was no snow fight or soapy water war. The wind howled against the turrets, and made the glass window panes rattle. A blizzard was upon them, and while small rooms like her bedroom could be closed up and kept warm, the larger rooms like the library were very chilly. Servants darted in and out of rooms, stroking fires in the ones with potential for use, and others were shut up tight and cloth tucked under the doorways to keep drafts at bay. Mrs. Potts even contemplated moving Belle to a different room, one more in the center of the castle instead of the end of a wing. But Belle assured her she was plenty warm at night.

Belle gripped the shawl that wrapped around her shoulders tighter as a shiver ran down her spine. Tucking the book she was seeking into her arm, she made her way to the settee Beast was sitting on. There was plenty of room next to him for her to fit, but she hesitated as she approached. She didn't wish to disturb him. He looked so content and engaged in the story unfolding before him. It was also still new to her, this strange attraction that made her heart skip a few beats when his blue eyes met hers, or when his warm paw rest on her shoulder. She felt this pull to be close to him and it terrified her. They were certainly becoming friends. That alone was a foreign feeling for the peculiar girl no one in the village wanted to have a real conversation with. He never judged her, or acted surprised or appalled at her wide range of interests. In fact, he'd been fascinated when she spoke to him about her favorite Greek philosopher, listening intently and asking questions now and then when she relayed a theory or belief he didn't quite understand.

There was an ease talking with him she'd never felt before with anyone in her entire life. Not even with Papa. Sure, Papa would listen to her, but it was always with only one ear while he tinkered with an invention, or his mind worked on a mechanical issue he was facing. No, the Beast was truly her first genuine friend and she wasn't sure how to feel about that. Part of her wanted to tell him, let him know how much their budding friendship meant to her. That he wasn't alone in feeling like an outcast. But she worried he'd think she was just pandering, or worse, pitying him. She supposed she should pity the Beast, locked away in this dark and empty castle, with no one beyond servants who were all too afraid of him to really form a close bond with. Sure he was familiar with Lumière, Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth, growing less and less formal with those particular staff members as the days wore on, but the line remained drawn in the sand. He was Master, they were servants.

She, however, was much more ambiguous. No longer truly a prisoner, but not free to come and go as she pleased either. She honestly didn't know what her place was here in this majestic enchanted castle. And even if had she a thought to leave, the blizzard outside made finding her way back to her little village impossible, not to mention dangerous. However she didn't want to leave. Anytime she thought about it the desire to stay was so overwhelming it shocked her. Shouldn't she want nothing more than to rush home to Papa? She _was _worried about him. How he was surviving on his own for the first time in nearly two decades. But he was a smart, resourceful, grown man who was in fact capable of cooking, cleaning, and looking after himself. So even when the guilt of wanting to stay crept up on her, her mind talked her out of that guilt. The cottage back in the village no longer called to her, beckoning her to return home.

Home, it was such a simple word with such strong meaning behind it. Home was where one felt safe, cared for, and a sense of belonging. She felt those things with Papa, but not a single place they'd lived ever felt like she belonged, and they'd moved every three or four years her entire life. No matter the village or town, she stuck out like a sore thumb. That odd little girl who talked to herself and made up fanatical stories gave way to a strange young lady who always had her nose in a book as she grew. Occasionally there had been unwanted suitors since she turned fourteen, but they simply pretended to listen to her because they found her beautiful. When they looked at her all they saw was the outer façade. Gaston was the worst of them all. He never even bothered with the pretense of sharing interests with her, or caring about anything she had to say. No one ever looked in her eyes, gazing deeper, to find her soul. Beast did. He looked so intensely into her eyes she often worried he could read her thoughts.

Another shiver ran through her body, making the decision for her. The warmest place in the room was on that settee, positioned directly in front of the roaring fire, and next to the Beast. She settled down next to him and he barely glanced over the top of his book to see her, eyebrows arched in recognition, almost giving permission for her to join him. She smiled and sat sideways, with her back against the armrest, knees drawn up, feet tucked under the skirt of the long velvet green dress she'd picked that morning. She was careful not to make contact with him, laying her book against her thighs and she began reading.

They sat there in silence, simply enjoying the others presence as they each got lost in the world being spun by the author of their books. Every so often Belle would feel a chill, and slowly, without her recognition, her freezing toes sought out the warmth radiating next to her.

Beast felt the cold sting on the back of his leg and it was enough to bring him out of his haze of literary submersion. Confused, he looked down to see what the cause of the icy intrusion was. Poking out of the skirt of her dress, Belle's toes had slid under his leg and were pressing further, slowly, until booth feet were completely buried beneath his left thigh. A smile crept across his face when he looked up to see her face, intently studying the book in her lap, completely unaware of her invading extremities.

Feeling a shiver run through her, he draped an arm over her knees, lending her more of his warmth. Lowering her book at the feel of him, she smiled brightly at him.

"Thank you. I don't know why I'm feeling so cold all of a sudden." She said before a blush stole up her cheeks when she wiggled her previously freezing toes and felt the soft fur above them. "Oh! I'm sorry!" She withdrew them and he smiled over at her.

"Don't be. It's alright. Here." He said, moving his leg back over her feet, and removing the cloak that lay across his shoulders, placing it atop her like a blanket, replacing his arm on her knees when he finished.

"Don't you need it?" She asked, noting he was only wearing a thin cotton shirt, and breeches.

"Nah. Fur coat don't you know?" With a wink he returned to his book as if everything he'd done was nothing.

Staring at him she couldn't keep the awe from her eyes, nor the delighted smile from her lips at how much he'd changed in the month she'd been there. He was kind, and sweet, and intelligent. Nothing like the gruff, impatient, aloof beast she'd first met. Not that he always kept his temper in check, but the outbursts were far less frequent, and when they did happen she always understood his frustration. Plus she knew he was trying to keep it under control, at least when she was present.

A frightening and startling realization hit her, as they sat there in her favorite place in the world, she felt safe and cared for and like she belonged.

Home.

This, was home.


End file.
